Married to the cold billionaire

Unraveling the Distance

The next morning, sunlight filtered weakly through the penthouse windows, casting long, pale streaks across the floor.

Eliana sat at the breakfast bar, absently stirring her untouched coffee.

Damon was nowhere to be seen — as usual.

She had grown used to the empty mornings, the distant evenings, and the constant feeling of being invisible.

But last night had changed something.

For the first time, Damon had cracked — not much, but enough to show that beneath his armor of indifference, there was a man carrying his own invisible wounds.

Her phone buzzed.

A message from Lillian: “Lunch with the Harpers. 1 PM. Damon will meet you at the venue.”

Eliana sighed, her stomach knotting.

Another event. Another performance.

Two hours later, she arrived at the upscale restaurant dressed in a pale blue sheath dress and a matching clutch — elegant, poised, and entirely composed on the outside.

Inside, she was splintering.

Damon was already there, seated at a private table with the Harpers — influential business partners he was desperate to impress.

When he saw her, something flickered across his face — a brief softening, so quick she thought she imagined it.

He stood smoothly, pulling out her chair like a proper husband. His hand brushed lightly against the small of her back — the briefest of touches, but enough to send a current racing up her spine.

“Eliana, you look beautiful,” he said, his voice low and meant for her alone.

She blinked, stunned.

Had Damon Blackwood just paid her a genuine compliment?

“Thank you,” she managed to say, her voice steady despite the sudden heat rising in her cheeks.

Lunch was a whirlwind of polite conversation, delicate negotiations disguised as casual chatter.

Eliana played her part flawlessly — laughing at the right moments, weaving subtle praise for Damon into the conversation, charming the Harpers without being obvious.

And Damon noticed.

More than once, she caught him watching her — a rare, almost admiring look softening his hard features.

When the meal finally ended and the Harpers left, Damon lingered, his hand resting lightly on the back of Eliana’s chair.

“You handled that well,” he said, his voice quieter now, less guarded.

Eliana shrugged, trying to seem casual even as her heart raced.

“I know how to play a role,” she said, a little sharper than she intended.

His eyes darkened, not with anger — but something heavier. Regret, maybe.

“I didn’t mean for this to be your whole life,” he said after a long pause. “You deserve more than a contract and cold rooms.”

The admission stunned her.

For a moment, she didn’t know what to say.

Maybe he wasn’t as unfeeling as she believed.

Maybe there was a man buried beneath all the ice and armor — a man capable of guilt, of care… maybe even of love.

“I’m trying, Damon,” she said softly. “But I can’t do it alone.”

His jaw clenched, and for a second she thought he might reach for her — but then he stepped back, retreating into himself again.

“I’ll have the car brought around,” he said stiffly, as if the moment between them had never happened.

As they left the restaurant, Eliana felt a strange new emotion stirring inside her — hope.

Fragile, dangerous hope.

Because for the first time, she realized Damon’s walls weren’t impenetrable.

And if she could find the cracks… maybe she could break through.

Maybe this marriage didn’t have to be just survival.

Maybe — just maybe — it could become something more.